Angelo coughed up the required cover fee, and here we are, with a QR code as our entry ticket.
Mr. Smith is a tech billionaire who made his fortune coding an app to keep kids safe online. Why Milo thought that was a suitable cover story for an event like this is beyond me, but the fucker is weird, so I didn’t question it.
Once we’re inside, we’ll split up and search the place. I’ve posted men at various points outside, ready to handle any problems that arise. We’re also assisted by Kyril Orliov and his wife, who happened to be in town for a social engagement. Once Thea Oriliov heard what was going on, she insisted on being a part of this.
Angelo wasn’t happy at the implied suggestion that he was incapable of rescuing his own sister, but he grudgingly accepted the offer of help.
And naturally, Chiara wasn’t about to be left at home.
I finger the plain black mask covering half of my face. We all have masks, although Chiara’s is by far the most decorative.
“Please wear masks at all times to maintain privacy. I hope you and your guests have an enjoyable evening, Mr. Smith,” the hostess says with a polite smile before pressing a button to open a set of heavy metal doors.
We step into a large elevator lined with mirrors. Above our heads, a camera winks, but I’m not concerned. Milo is busy hacking into the security system, so he’ll delete all traces of us.
The elevator glides down a level. The minute it stops and the doors crack open, the heavy thump of bass hits me hard.
Some parts of Remington’s club are accessible to the lower-tier members. These include a bar area with a dance floor, and private booths where VIPs can entertain guests.
The rooms located through a second door, up a black glass staircase, are where the real fun happens.
I first visited the club with Angelo a few years back when it opened. We had a good time, but since I don’t have exhibitionist or voyeurism kinks, I’ve spent little time here since. But watching live sex shows or taking part in orgies isn’t why we’re here tonight.
The bar is one long slab of glittering marble in front of a blue-lit glass wall. It’s ostentatious as hell, but they serve my preferred brand of tequila, so I don’t much care.
A huge beast of a man stands at the bar with his back to us, one arm loosely hooked over a petite but curvy brunette’s shoulder. Other patrons are giving him a wide berth, which is understandable.
Kyril Orliov’s reputation precedes him, but even though he’s unrecognizable to everyone in this fucked-up club thanks to the obligatory mask, the menacing aura he exudes is enough to keep most people away.
The brunette turns when she hears us approach, her red lips curved up in a smile when she locks eyes with Chiara. She’s wearing a red fox mask decorated with tiny orange sequins while the Russian wears a plain black skeleton mask.
“Ah, the runaway bride,” she laughs. Angelo tenses but wisely refrains from saying anything potentially offensive.
To my surprise, Chiara grins. A white lace mask obscures her upper face, but her eyes sparkle. “That’s me! Ohmigod, I’m so happy to meet you!”
“Likewise,” Thea replies with a grin. “Anyone who can evade those two for a year gets my vote.” She cocks her head at me and Angelo with a smirk before her mouth flattens. “I’m not a fan of forced marriages.”
I know a little of her backstory, so that makes sense. Her father tried to force her into a marriage with a Romanian mobster, but she escaped. Even though he’s long dead, it’s fucking obvious she still carries scars from the experience.
“No, they suck,” Chiara agrees. “But we’ve all moved on.” She leans into Luka, making it clear where her affections lie, which makes Angelo scowl harder. But to my surprise - and Thea’s - Chiara then grabs Angelo’s hand and smiles.
“I’m over it now, so no need to stab the asshole on my behalf.”
Kyril is watching this exchange. It’s hard to read him, but the fact he’s here and willing to help us says he’s not our enemy.
“Fiiine, I won’t stab him.” Thea winks before casting a quick glance around the busy bar. “But the rest of them are fair game.”
I have no clue where she’s hiding her weapons, as her dress is skin-tight and made from some sort of shiny latex material, but from what I know of her, she’s deadly even without a gun or blade.
I fully expected us to be patted down before we entered the club, but no doubt that will happen before we can access the lower levels, where the auction takes place.
“Behave,kotenok,” Kyril growls, wrapping his meaty fist around her throat in a highly possessive way. “We need to check this place out.” He drains his glass and slams it down on the bar, making a nearby guy in a suit jump. “You have my number,” he tells Angelo. “Message me if you find anything.”
“I’ll try to leave you a few bad guys to kill,” Thea whispers under her breath in Angelo’s direction.
“Please don’t go on a murder spree,” he hisses back. “The cleanup would cost me a fortune. We find my sister and get the fuck out.”
Thea turns to Chiara. “Is he always this boring?”
